I Bid You A Sweet Adieu
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009

**Rating: **T, though M could also be fair game in any chapters that follow.

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

_**Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.**_

**Author's Note: **I think I'm starting this basically on time. I really want this to be shorter and quicker...Nothing to linger over my head when I start school in September. So I'm hoping this will be about ten chapters and done in two or three weeks (probably closer to two). That set aside, I know I said I would be doing a sequel to "Brightness in the Shades of Gray". Well, geez, that was finished forever ago, and I still haven't written one. I want to try and do that soon as well, so keep a look out! Happy reading (:

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Gossip Girl, I don't think I would really feel the need to write FanFiction. Too much time would be spent on ferocious procreating of Chuck and Blair (;

This is not beta'd. Sorry for mistakes.

* * *

Even though it was only late September, it was bitter outside. Blair pulled her navy cashmere coat tighter around herself as she pushed her way through the revolving door that led to the lobby of Bass Industries. When she reached the front desk, she handed the suited-up man her 'Family and Friends' visitor pass and stepped through the metal detector (even normal business buildings invested in such things as metal detectors. Or perhaps it was only Chuck's rarely seen overprotection coming through).

Stepping into the elevator, she spotted a familiar face. She smiled at Dan Humphrey – in a crisp chocolate brown suit – and he nodded back, hands folded in front of him in a businesslike manner.

Years ago, it would have seemed absurd that Dan worked for Chuck. He was adjunct to the company, and they only brought him in for legal matters since he was – quite possibly – one of the best lawyers in New York. Now, it wasn't as absurd that good 'ole Humphrey Dumpty from Brooklyn was running with their crowd more and more. He was attached to Serena all of the time, so they were basically a packaged deal. Therefore, Dan was wordlessly accepted into their close circle of friends – no more mocking, though there was still the occasional cold shoulder if he attempted an entrance into a conversation.

"So, how are you, Dan?" Blair didn't even have to coat her voice with fake sweetness anymore, that was how normal seeing Dan was now.

"I've been better," he said, clearing his throat. He had a scruffy look about him – his face was covered in hair that was about half an hour past five o'clock shadow and his hair was combed, but looked as if it hadn't seen gel in several days.

"Are they having problems?" she whispered worriedly. Chuck never talked to her about anything that was going wrong within the company because he didn't want to worry her and upset her to the point of breaking. She wished he would just trust her and the fact that she was stronger now, but he always pacified her.

Dan eyed her cautiously out of the corner of his eye and she glanced down at the twiddling thumbs on her hands. Before he could answer her – not having an answer did nothing to resolve her worries – the doors opened, revealing the seventh floor, where Chuck's office was located.

She strode in ahead of Dan – she was the girlfriend, and that had to make her infinitely more important – and closed the door behind her. She saw Chuck at his desk – chair facing the window – with a phone glued to his ear. Hearing the door close he turned around and shot her a look a surprise. Without saying another word, Chuck hung up the phone. Blair almost felt bad for whatever person was on the receiving line of that dial tone.

"I have a question that I want you to answer honestly, Chuck," Blair stated, looking him straight in the eyes and trying to bore into his soul – for some reason it didn't seem as effective today.

"Yes?" he asked, raising his eyebrows amusedly, as if she were a child asking him something completely futile and unimportant. Blair hated it when he patronized her because it made her feel small and measly – two things of which she was certain she was _not_.

"Are you in trouble?"

"What sort of trouble?"

"Is the company in trouble?" she bit out, pacing for a few beats before sitting down in a chair across from him. On any other day it would have felt like she was a naughty client coming to visit Mr. Bass, the CEO for a 'special conversation' that involved little to no clothing. Today, however, it could not have been more serious.

"Why does that matter, Blair?" Chuck answered her inquiry with one of his own. He knew how much that pissed her off, yet he still did it. He was fighting her off, dancing around the inevitable. That was just what he did.

"Because I'm...Well, I'd like to think I'm important in your life!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air.

He sighed and shook his head impatiently, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stared agitatedly at the wall behind her.

"Blair, you _are_, alright? But, I always keep business and...private matters separate, therefore -"

_**********_

"Dammit, if your business is going down the fucking drain I think I have a right to know Chuck!" Her voice rose several octaves and he looked up at her in astonishment. _Overreact much?_

"Jesus. Everything's _fine_. Don't get your panties in a bunch, Waldorf," he muttered under his breath, fiddling in the bottom drawer of his desk to avoid her burning gaze.

Before he could really comprehend what was happening, Blair was kneeling in front of his face, her eyes drawing his gaze to meet hers. She grabbed his hand and he felt something snap deep within him. If it had been his choice – perhaps if he had had more self control and self preservation – he would have stuck it out and done nothing to blow his cover.

Those eyes, though. So doe-like and innocent. All she wanted to do was help. And even if Chuck spoke to her, it didn't mean that he needed to accept help from her. He was strong and independent – if he weren't, then the company wouldn't have accepted him so long ago – and didn't need Blair Waldorf's help this time. He just didn't.

"Tell me what happened," she murmured, head leaning down to pepper the top of his hand with kisses as her eyes peeked up at him through slightly hooded lids.

"We're losing accounts," he whispered breathlessly, unable to believe how it actually sounded coming out of his own mouth. "Which means we're losing money. We're already twenty thousand dollars down." Chuck shook his head in despair, looking out the window because that was so much easier to do than to look into the eyes of a comforting Blair. If he looked at her, he would break; that just was not something he could do at work.

"Can't you earn that back? Gather more investors?" She asked hopefully, a smile spreading on her face and her eyes widening in fake encouragement and happiness.

"No one wants our money anymore. Everyone's tried _every damn thing_, but nothing fucking works anymore. I just..." he took this opportunity to look back at her. "...I don't know what to do anymore. I'm at a loss and...Christ, I need..." he rolled his eyes in defeat. "I need help, Blair," Chuck's voice broke as he finished his choppy speech and he looked at her once again. Her own eyes were rimmed with tears and she pulled his face to hers, kissing him.

As salty tears mixed together on their lips, Chuck tried to believe that it would be okay. This was what Blair was good at, wasn't it? She solved problems. The woman could fix anything. Even if she didn't know a whole lot about Bass Industries, Chuck trusted her. He loved her and she loved him, and their dual power could ward of any doom that loomed over them.

**End Note: **This was a short beginning...Sorry about that. I only included Chuck and Blair's POV in this chapter...It felt more comfortable to me to start out that way. In the next chapter, though, Vic shall be back (: Maybe even Adri? I'm not so sure yet haha. I hope everyone thinks this is a good start; I'm excited to keep going! Oh yeah, lemme know about the title...Does it work or is it just too...blah?


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009 (Beginning) August 9, 2009 (most recent update)

**Rating: **T, though M could also be fair game in any chapters that follow.

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

_**Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.**_

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay, everybody. The reviews were alright last chapter, and thank you to everyone that took the time to leave one (: Oh yeah, this seriously should have been up yesterday, but the site would not let me log in and was being extremely stubborn and annoying. So really, it wasn't my fault...I'm just hoping this turned out alright :P

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or any other product names that are mentioned.

Thanks to Amber for looking over and beta-ing this chapter. You rock (:

* * *

Victor walked the halls of St. Jude's confidently – though really, when didn't he walk with that self-assured swagger? He stopped at his locker and opened the door, trading his calculus book in for the art history text required for the class he had next. When he closed the door, he was surprised to see Lilly Fillmore leaning against the locker right next to his own.

"And to what do I owe this lovely surprise?" he asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. She smiled and rolled her eyes with boredom.

"You're lucky I let you get away with that, Victor," Lilly said playfully, tossing her golden locks of hair behind her shoulder. She looked back at him expectantly, inviting him to walk with her.

"I request your womanizing services," she added when he had gotten into step alongside her.

"I'll bite..."

"I'm throwing a party on Saturday and there's a girl coming that's gotten on my last nerve lately. I mean, you know me...I can hold out through any kind of torture and obvious foul play, but this is just..._animalistic_."

Vic recognized the signs of the lovely girl's rant and held up his hand to stop her. She glanced over at him and pursed her lips, continuing.

"I need you to get under her skin...if you catch my drift."

"The only person whose skin I want to get under is -"

"That's not happening anytime soon, Vic, so stop trying," Lilly stated simply. "Are you coming or not?" She asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulder in slight discomfort as she let out a huff of air. They had reached Mr. Bagot's classroom – where her next class, French, was – and the hourglass was quickly losing sand.

"I'll look over my calendar and get back to you," Victor murmured, patting her shoulder before walking in the opposite direction to his next class.

They both knew he would end up going to that party. And they _both _knew it wouldn't be because of some measly girl that was pushing Lilly's buttons. Victor was just the only one that would admit it.

_*********_

When Chuck opened his eyes the next morning – he was late; it was already 8:45 – he tried to rise from his laying position in bed, but to no avail. It was like some kind of lead was weighing him down and preventing him from going to the hellhole that was the office of Bass Industries. He sat up and looked out the window, rubbing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.

He felt the other side of the bed sink as Blair sat back down. Looking over at her, he noticed that her hair had been combed, but she was still in the same ruffly purple teddy from the night before. He glanced over at the bathroom, where the light was still on, meaning she was planning to shower soon. Meaning...if he wanted to still maintain some sort of manliness for that day, he should get his ass up and start getting ready.

"I called the office and told them you would be late today," she said quietly, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. Chuck subconsciously leaned into the soft warmth of her hand and closed his eyes before scooting to the edge of the bed and striding over to the mahogany dresser that they'd bought when he'd moved in four months ago.  
Last night had been a roller coaster, a whirlwind of emotion and words that weren't as clear and literate in the morning as they had been the evening before. He felt things falling apart even more so than any other time that they'd lost a deal. This time the company wasn't losing just one deal, they were losing several. Chuck hated being in and amidst the swirling whirlpool of failure that was _his _company now.

What hurt most was that his father never would have let this happen – though most of it was the economy of the time, Chuck refused to believe that. Bart Bass would have had a backup plan; he would have known exactly what to do. _Chuck _Bass was falling flat on his face, on the hardest concrete ever poured on the earth. He was failing his father, and he could hear that bastard laughing and taunting even from beyond the grave.

That was what cut the deepest, it was the wound that bled the most and caused the most tears in the darkest hours of night. He couldn't be as good as his father had been, and he never would be – no matter how hard and how vigorously he tried to. Everything Chuck ventured into resulted in a devastating failure, and his father had predicted that many moons ago.  
Why hadn't he listened? Sure, his father had left him the company, but that had to have been long before Chuck was even born. Bart never knew of the devilish capabilities that Chuck Bass would possess. He didn't doubt the unborn because even Bartholomew Bass was human during his best days. But after Chuck had been born, he was smart enough to hate him. Chuck had killed the love of his father's life, and that must have hurt.

He had failed his father. Chuck had failed his father to the greatest and most unimaginable degree. And not only did that hurt him, but it hurt everyone around him. Because as the company went under, so did he. Chuck went further and further under what was considered normal human behavior and thoughts.  
As he fussed around in the second drawer of his dresser – deciding between argyle and stripes was a difficult task, for sure – he picked out a pair of socks and went to the closet, pulling out a black pinstriped suit and a peach shirt that had a gray tie dangling from its hanger. He picked out a different tie and trudged into the bathroom, turning on the water in the shower and stepping in.

Fifteen minutes later, when he had cleaned up and was dressed, he walked back into the bedroom and saw a peacefully sleeping Blair. He resisted the urge to take off his just-put-on clothing and crawl back in with her and sleep the rest of the day away because he had work to do. Walking over to where she lay sprawled out, he bent down and touched his lips to hers. A small smile spread across his lips as he brushed the back of his hand against her forehead and walked out quietly.

_**********_

Blair woke up a few hours later to bright rays of sun streaming in through the windows. Chuck had left for work already – she wasn't the least bit surprised – and there was shopping to be done. Okay, so she didn't exactly _need _to shop, but it would help her relax. And after Chuck's meltdown last night, she really needed to calm down and just zone out for a bit.  
What better way to do that than retail therapy? Lots of women she knew said that was the best kind.

After Blair had picked out her clothes – a plum colored Michael Kors skirt and a silky, floral Calvin Klein shirt – she slipped on her robe and turned the knob of the shower all the way to the left. When she stepped in, everything slipped away as the hot beads of water hit her skin and warmed her soul.

Half an hour later, with freshly blow-dried hair and three spritzes of Chanel No. 5, Blair was ready to go out into the adventure of a shopping day. She always got very excited – who didn't, really? - about the prospect of new items that spiced up her home (some imbeciles argued that it cluttered).

A few hours later, she found that nothing was really striking her as spectacularly unique. Letting out a soft sigh as she ran her hands over another flouncy skirt, Blair walked out of Saks and back onto the streets of the Upper East Side. Suddenly, she felt her blue Rumor vibrating in the side pocket of her Coach bag and she withdrew her cellphone. The screen flashed with 'Chuck' and she pressed the green answer button immediately.

"Hey," she said as brightly as she could.

"Wanna go get some lunch?" Chuck asked, his normal tone of playfulness back and sounding possibly even better than before. She could tell that he was smirking and gazing out his window as he thought about her and what she was wearing – as well as what was underneath, of course (he was still Chuck Bass, only aged a few years).

"I'd love to," Blair replied kindly. She couldn't stop the huge smile from forming on her face and didn't want it to go away – ever. Especially now that Chuck was the one to make it appear so spontaneously. Just the sound of his voice – his _happy _voice – made her warm and fuzzy, and that was a great way to live life. It was how she _liked _to live life.

"I'll meet you at home in fifteen minutes."

"Wait, Chuck. I thought you said we're getting lunch!" She said, confused beyond belief.

"I did, and we are. Haven't you ever heard of a surprise, Waldorf?"

Blair smiled and rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll see you soon," she murmured, resisting the urge to kiss the mouthpiece of the phone (Chuck would probably murder her).

_**********_

Adrianna doodled in her floppy yellow spelling book as her teacher, Ms. Applebaum, kept spelling words over and over on the blackboard at the front of the room. She knew all of this already, and it annoyed her that it was still being uselessly pounded into her head (so much so that she had broken the tips of three pencils already today).

"Psst! Adri!" Gloria – her friend of the week – poked Adri's back with the eraser of her bright green pencil to get her attention. "Albert wanted me to pass this to you." Adrianna shook her head and tried to roll her eyes dramatically, but she wasn't very good at the latter yet. Without even looking at it, she crumpled up the piece of jagged notebook paper and tossed it into the trashcan that was only six inches from her desk.

"Hey!" She heard the boy's slightly scorned voice and smirked – darn, she still hadn't perfected that one, either; obviously, she was in need of some more mommy shadowing – to herself as she continued to draw pictures of little people in extravagant weddings. The names Mr. Bass and Mommy were doodled in every little space that was not consumed by women in fluffy dresses or men in bulky suits.

**End Note: **This was longer to make up for lost time. I really am sorry haha. I also hope that the little snippet into Adri's POV and life was alright. There were some pretty basic things I was trying to convey in that little bit, and they will come out to play in future chapters as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009 (Beginning) August 9, 2009 (most recent update)

**Rating: **There are parts of this chapter that involve sexual situations and the act of sex, therefore this particular chapter is rated **M**

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

_**Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.**_

**Author's Note: **Before I say anything, don't get used to the whole 'two chapters in one day thing'...I basically only doubled up because of the mistake that's about to be mentioned. But I do hope it helps (:Anyway, earlier today I was about to upload this chapter with this whole thing about how sad I was to be without reviews...but then I realized that chapter two hadn't even been up at all yet because of a glitch that just screwed everything up. Therefore, I hope that anyone reading this can forgive me and take this super-long chapter as a present (:

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or any other product names that are mentioned.

Thanks again to Amber for looking over and making changes to this chapter (:

* * *

Blair anxiously fiddled with her key-chain, trying to find the appropriate key for her house, and finally opened the door with ease. When she walked in, the unmistakable smell of Chinese food hit her nose and assaulted the rest of her senses. Fully expecting to see an open paper bag from Chung's on the table, Blair gasped in shock when she saw Chuck standing above a wok – in her kitchen, nonetheless. There was a beautiful basket of fruit in the center of the table at which they were about to eat – surely _that _was store-bought – and Blair plucked off a delicious-looking red grape, flinging it at him when he didn't immediately acknowledge her presence.

"Hello, Waldorf."

"I'm sorry, but could you just tell me how much ransom you want for the obviously kidnapped Chuck Bass?" she said in reply, smirking and swaying her hips that extra little bit as she walked over to where he was standing to make sure he wasn't adding poison to what looked like a delectable afternoon meal.

"Obviously your wit has withstood everything," he commented, trying to concentrate on the food in front of him.

"Among other things," Blair responded, her lips seeking out his neck and sucking teasingly. When she felt that he had been sufficiently distracted – it was all part of that addicting, yet foul game to make Chuck stumble and fail, of course – she went to sit in one of the cushioned chairs that was stationed around her gorgeous oakwood dining table, ankles crossed demurely.

"You're such a tease. Really, you should get paid," Chuck said scornfully and she only laughed throatily in response.

There was something about watching a Bass man cook, that much she knew now. He did it so expertly, as if he hadn't been online earlier just that day – please, she knew it and he knew it – looking up recipes and watching clips of famous chefs on YouTube. He tossed a few more vegetables in – peppers of kind – and then moved a large plastic spoon around, mixing everything together. Chuck went to a different pan, letting the cooked veggies settle a bit, and added some powder to the chicken that was in there.

"Trying to spike my food, Bass?" She smiled coyly at him, twisting a shoulder-length chocolate brown curl around her index finger after she popped a ripe blueberry into her mouth.

"Just sit there and look pretty," he admonished, shaking the spoon lightly at her and narrowing his eyes slightly.

For once, Blair did as she was told. However, it was merely because she was hungry. Her stomach gave another unsatisfied growl and she fed her famished mouth a strawberry, enjoying how the chilled juice inside the fruit coated her tongue and the way the nectar slipped down her throat without difficulty. There was something wonderful about watching someone else work hard – in this case, cook – while she tossed fruit into her mouth without a care in the world.

It seemed like ages had passed since their last witty exchange of words. Blair was never really one to break awkward silences, so she simply picked at the fruit that sat practically in front of her. Chuck spared an occasional glance behind his shoulder and a wink every now and then, but she was growing bored, and even that was an understatement.

Blair hadn't even been paying much attention when suddenly she saw Chuck's colossal hands placing a plate of food in front of her. Moments later, he sat across from her and was already digging in. Apparently she wasn't the only person in the room who was starving. For some reason, Blair couldn't help but still watch Chuck as he ate, because there was even something alluring about the way he put food into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It was like viewing some nighttime special on the Discovery channel that you only ever turned on when there wasn't anything else worth watching: mindlessly addicting and magnetic.

Finally, when he looked up at her for the umpteenth time – the first few times, she was too entranced to even notice – she picked up her fork and took the first bite. Blair heard some sort of noise and it took her a moment to realize that the pleased 'mmm' had come from her own self. The steamed carrot slid around in her mouth before she finally let it go down, already having had a forkful of chicken and asparagus ready to go.

_*********_

Chuck let out a small chuckle as she made a noise of approval after the first bite of food. Shaking his head, he set his fork down next to his plate and tried to pay her the same amount of attention that she had him only moments ago. The only problem with that was that she ate her food a hell of a lot sexier than he did, therefore after less than a minute of studying her, he felt something pulling at him down below and had to shift in his seat as he took a small sip of the fruity wine they were drinking with their romantic lunch.

"I'm guessing you enjoy the food," he murmured once he saw that most of her plate was cleared off and she was still eating like she hadn't in years.

As Blair looked up at him, her eyes were wide, as if she wasn't sure she should be eating in such a way. But, truth be told, he liked it so much better when she ate like this. When she just...well, shoveled it in as if it didn't matter that she was in the company of someone else. It gave him the impression that she was getting comfortable around him again, an impression that warmed some unknown place inside of him.

"It's a good thing," Chuck reassured her and she smiled as the lump in her throat – from a bite of seasoned chicken – returned to normal size when she swallowed. "I'm glad you enjoy my cooking."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me to ask you..." Blair said buoyantly, toying with what little bit of food she had left on her plate. "Since when, exactly, does the great and mighty Chuck Bass cook?"

He stared at something in the corner before feeding her the most honest line of bullshit he ever had in his life. "Since I was diagnosed with insomnia seven years ago and wasn't able to sleep for about six months. The food network has some pretty great specials running all night long." His face was straight and solemn, but the words were delivered with a subtle coy attitude that Blair was obviously unable to catch on to.

"Oh...I'm sorry, Chuck." She seemed at a loss for words and even a little sad as she picked up her plate and took it over to the sink. He had started to smile, wondering how long this could be kept up without her finally realizing or him unable to keep his laughter bottled up inside, when she suddenly turned around. Chuck moved his mouth as if he were still chewing to mask his show of happiness when she continued to speak and try to make up for her earlier words of doubt.

"So do you have to take medication or something...?" Blair asked, trying to cover everything up. That was when he couldn't take it anymore and burst out into a fit of hearty laughter that brushed his toes and made his stomach cave inwardly. She shot him a confused look, as if he had grown a third head – or maybe she thought him a schizophrenic – and leaned against the counter skeptically, her arms wrapped around her thin waist.

"Christ, Blair! I was fucking _kidding_!" Chuck managed to gasp out as he rose and stumbled over to the sink to help her with the dishes. He ended up tackling her – whether it was accidental or not he honestly wasn't sure – and she glared at him, swatting his arms angrily.

"_Asshole!_ You do not _joke _about things like that!"

"Blair, it's _insomnia_. Hardly anything to be worried about; every teenager in Hicktown, Michigan has the same disease during the summer!" Chuck was still laughing uncontrollably and she shook her head at him, obviously unwilling to let it go. He sobered up as much as he could and straightened his posture, though he did not back away from her – not one centimeter.

"Chuck, you just can't...you can't do that, with anything, okay? I admit, I overreacted a bit with the whole insomnia thing – it's not one of the worst diseases – but...I just can't take jokes like that anymore, understand?"

He eyed her wearily, just a hair away from being worried, and stepped imperceptibly closer to her, placing his hands on the top of the curve that was her hips and spreading them as his face neared hers. She tried to close the distance between them and bring their lips to touch, but he moved his head to the side and once she got the message, he turned back to look at her.

"I'm sorry." Chuck's voice was barely a whisper as it came out of his mouth and settled on her lips just before his own mouth replaced the apology. Her warm, wet mouth awaited his eager tongue as he pinned her against the counter and licked every inch of her mouth. Wordlessly and almost involuntarily, she blindly used her hands to push up onto the marble counter and sit there. Her hands grabbed the sides of his white polka-dotted bow-tie and his mouth crushed hers in what should have been – and to anyone else that was perfectly sane would have been – a bruising and painful kiss, but was just that much more pleasurable to him because it was who he was.

_**********_

Victor Waldorf had a great deal of trouble paying attention in his classes the rest of that afternoon. The one class that he had with Lilly – chemistry in the morning – did little to feed his appetite for conversation and interaction with the ethereal beauty. And now it was afternoon, a time which was most definitely and depressingly _not _morning.

Vic tapped his pencil against his closed navy colored notebook while the rest of the class had theirs open and were avidly taking notes as if their lives depended on it. He turned his gaze out the window, tuning out the teacher – what teacher didn't he tune out, honestly? - and trying to think different thoughts. Thoughts that could not in any way be affiliated with Lilly Fillmore.

No such luck. Everywhere he glanced outside – the rotting black paint on the lamp post, cars driving by fast as lightning, kids crossing the street to retrieve a lost basketball – some sort of picture of that girl popped right back into his head, unbidden and definitely unwanted. Shaking his head, he heard the bell ring, and suddenly the only thing on his mind was the fact that he'd heard the old geezer at the front of the room mention something about a test on Friday. Vic had to figure out which geek would be letting him "borrow" notes for that particular exam.

As he walked out of the classroom, books under his left arm, Victor didn't see her coming straight for him. Lilly bounded straight into him and he smirked when she was undeniably flustered at the sight of him. He took his opportunity to tell her of his decision.

"Well well, it's Ms. Fillmore, looking rather stressed if I do say so myself," he drawled, helping pick up the papers that had flown out of her arms when they'd collided just seconds ago.

She finally looked up at gave him a half-hearted smile, tilting her head slightly.

"I figured I would let you know now...I plan on going to that little shin-dig that you're throwing. If it's alright, I mean." What the fuck was he doing? He didn't get nervous. Never did Vic second guess a decision to attend a party he was invited to. And he absolutely never asked for confirmation of the fact that his attendance was still requested.

"That sounds great," Lilly said enthusiastically. Her smile grew into something infinitely more believable to Vic, and he smiled back – she should have felt damn blessed to provoke a smile in him; the most anyone ever got was a wide smirk of amusement.

She was about to walk away when he stopped her, putting his hand on her shoulder hesitantly and then immediately withdrawing it in discomfort. Was that a goddamn blush creeping up his cheeks? Jesus, he was turning into such a freaking wuss.

Shrugging off the millions of thoughts that were swimming in his head – and the several buzzers that went off at the tiniest touch – Vic found his voice and spoke.

"So, is there a time I should be at this party, or just whenever? 'Cause you know me, I'll be there at the crack of dawn if it's a good enough part-ay," his voice was low and suggestive, but the almost-cracks – he knew that Lilly heard them too – didn't really help his case much.

"Seven is fine," she said, walking away again.

He waved casually and yelled a "See ya then, blondie!" after her. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, he went to meet the town car to take him over to his friend's house. Eli was so getting an ear full of what a dipshit his friend was – for once, Vic intended to properly vent; maybe then, he would be able to focus on other things...other...women (girls, more like) to be exact.

_**********_

The journey from kitchen counter to feather-y bed was shorter than normal and it was like they just dematerialized and then rematerialized instead of physically moving. Though maybe it was simply the things that Chuck was doing to her as they did move – tongue flicking against her neck, fingers bending and sliding up and under her dress – that was making it seem as if time had ceased to exist.

She lay before him, completely naked and exposed. Even during married life with Nate (she found it was easier and easier to talk about him guiltlessly now, since he would have wanted only her happiness), she was overly conscious of herself and every little movement that she made. Now – however – being under Chuck Bass, she felt a totally different emotion. She felt adventurous, like she was about to journey out into the wild with him by her side.

That was the best thing. She knew that no matter what, Chuck wouldn't leave her this time around. Perhaps she was being slightly too trusting in him, but she still had this gut feeling that he was with her for good. They had both been through their own types of hell, and they'd each made it through. Both had matured and grown into people who were so much better than their teenage selves.

So Blair trusted Chuck. As his warm fingers slipped inside of her hot and throbbing core, she bit down on her lip and whimpered through her gritted teeth. His hands soothed skin that had earlier been bitten and tried to make the marks go away. Truth be told, she didn't want them to go away. She wanted his territory marked, she wanted everyone in the world to know that Blair Waldorf belonged to Chuck Bass, and she didn't care if it was in the most bizarre way imaginable.

She was losing patience quickly and moved to undo his pants. It was so very uncharacteristic for him to still be fully clothed – save for a few buttons that had been fumbled over on his shirt – while she was stark naked. Usually they were both equally naked because of the fact that they shared in the feeling of wanted to just screw quickly and get it over with, and then screw again, but more slowly the next time to savor it more. Now though, it seemed like the scales had tipped, so Blair tried to make everything return to normalcy as she tore his shirt open and – not even bothering to unbutton or unzip – pulled his pants down.

Without waiting any further, Chuck swiftly moved to enter her and when he did, she gasped in pleasure and her eyes screwed shut.

He pounded into her from above and she felt oblivion taking her over as he gently stroked every inch inside of her. There was a burning heat that licked every organ she possessed deliciously when Chuck's hands found the curve right above her backside. Blair's mouth opened in a silent scream and she closed it, biting down, only to open again and sink her teeth into his shoulder. She moved her own hands down to grab his butt and try to make him go impossibly deeper inside of her.

Chuck's breath was shaky when it hit her hair, then her collarbone, and then a pert nipple awaiting his attention. As he sucked and drew his teeth around and across it, Blair felt that fire flare and rise up to her mouth, where a shaky moan fell out unexpectedly. The fire went out in that same second when his mouth traveled down in between her breasts and he purposely ignored her need.

"Please, Chuck, please," she begged mercilessly, and he was obviously weak against her powers since his lips and mouth went right back to their previous place of residence.

Blair unconsciously pushed his behind – more forcefully this time – and he hit a spot that made her feel everything everywhere. It was unimaginable pleasure that hit her in cloudy shock-waves. She felt him twitch and his voice was husky with lust and want as he murmured that he was about to come. He started to pull out of her – being condom-less had its downsides – but she grabbed his hips and he was once again useless against her persuasion and slammed back down onto her.

She bit his outer ear and whispered, "It's okay, I'm on the pill," which was a total and complete lie. She would say anything to him at that point because she knew he was gullible in his current state and wouldn't ask questions. And also because all she wanted was to feel him seep inside of her and warm the places that hadn't felt heat in a decade and a half. Blair wanted to connect with Chuck in the most special of ways and feel the proof of their feelings inside of her for minutes after their love-making. With a condom, nothing was quite the same to her.

But when he was bare and unconcealed, when they were totally naked to one another and there were no barriers to break them apart – that was when Blair felt best. So she fluttered and ached around his throbbing and pulsing erection as her glorious mountain's peak was reached. Everything practically went white and she found herself flashing back to more naïve times, when she had been a teenager and foolish. Though perhaps even now, she was just as foolish.

And when Chuck choked on the air that was struggling into get to his lungs and her name slipped out from his lips, she knew why she was so...'foolish'. That one moment when the both of them felt the same exact emotion and shared in it for a millisecond in the universe. It was the one period of time when Blair and Chuck were on the same page, where the shared the same body and mind, and each knew the exact thought of the other.

This was Blair's definition of love. Not only was it love, but it was future, and long-lasting passion.

**End Note: **Ahh my God, that was long! Haha. I feel like I'm getting a bit more comfortable with the more adult aspects of Chuck and Blair, so that's good.. But you guys are really the judges. Reviews please?


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009 (Beginning) August 9, 2009 (most recent update)

**Rating: **T

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

_**Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.**_

**Author's Note: **So, I was a bit discouraged from lack of reviews, but then this monster of a chapter came out, and I was once again encouraged (: I only hope that it encourages more readers to review (;

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or any other product names that are mentioned.

Thanks so much to Amber for her beta work again!

* * *

Victor sat in one of the four comfortable leather La-Z-Boys that sat in the Polk family's living room. Eli was across from him, joint in between his index finger and thumb, and smoke emitting from his lips. His eyes already had that haze that Vic longed for. Truth be told, he was a bit afraid of taking his first hit. It looked so simple and the highs sure did look great, but long before Nate had died, he'd instilled this fear in Victor: what would happen when he couldn't stop?

Then again, everyone was doing it, right? Every damn guy on the soccer team had smoked pot at some point or another – in fact, most were stoned throughout every game (something about it making their game "so much better, man"). But for Vic it was different.

Nate had done drugs. And apparently it wasn't only when he was in school, but also as an adult. There was one time, about a year and a half before he passed away, that the man who he now had trouble calling his father had found the weed in his room. Vic had only been hiding it for none other than Eli, but Nate wouldn't have it. It caused this whole lecture about what drugs did to your life and the relationships that it destroyed. So Nate had put that fear in him, and as he watched his friends drift away more and more every time they smoked another joint, the fear was built higher and higher, until there was a fucking skyscraper of terror inside of him.

Today was different. For some reason, he felt this aching need to just take that little thing that Eli was offering him and go ahead and do it. No one ever had to know, and he really needed a break right about then. Suddenly, he got up and went over to Eli, taking the stubby joint out of the boy's hand and putting it into his own mouth. When he inhaled, everything went fuzzy and it felt like the edges of his eyes were being burned. But still, it felt damn good. And it wasn't something he was about to give up, because during that entire six second period of inhale-exhale, he hadn't thought about Lilly once.

"Hey, man, you got anymore of this stuff?" his voice was coated with a slur, but it was subtle enough that he was sure no one would notice when he arrived home.

_If _I arrive home, he thought to himself, smirking and lighting up his own joint before letting out the cloudy smoke.

_**********_

As Chuck and Blair lay together – her back against his chest – he drew his index finger back and forth across her arm as the rest of his hand just sat there limply, holding her down so she wouldn't get away from him. Her skin was so incredibly soft, like an angel's wings. As he looked out the window at a gold finch flying from its nest, Chuck kissed the patch of freckles that dotted her left shoulder blade – just once was plenty.

He could tell that she was awake, even though her eyes were still closed. Her breath hit his skin in a jagged rhythm that was like extremely fragile porcelain – he was afraid it would break at any moment. Finally, she turned around in his arms, and he saw reflected in her eyes what he had expected because of the nature of her breathing. She looked worried as her bottom lip stayed trapped between her top row of teeth and her eyes darted all over his face.

"What is it?" Chuck's voice was a soft whisper as the hand that had previously been stroking her arm moved to stroke her cheek instead, concern clouding the sharp features on his face. She took in a deep breath, preparing for something that he would not anticipate, and he found himself gulping, despite the fact that he felt the need to be stronger now.

"I lied," her voice was soft, broken, and frightened. It reminded him of his own childish confessions with his father when he'd been young enough to think that it would help.

"About what?" his voice was still calm, and just as soft as before, but his hand moved down to rest on her hip instead of stroking her cheek comfortingly. A tear slipped out from the corner of her eye as she regarded him with careful – fearful? – eyes that seemed dodgy. What the hell was this? And, more importantly, what had he done to deserve a lie from her this time?

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips in a moment of nervousness and her eyes finally looked up from hooded lids to meet his own. Blair's voice was shaky when she finally told him.

"I...I'm not on the pill, Chuck. I...wasn't last night."

He didn't respond to her confession, and she showed no signs of solace as her chest began to heave in anticipation. Chuck was probably killing her by not responding, but he didn't know how to react. The last time he hadn't used a damn condom was...fifteen years ago. He'd learned his lesson then, and set that rule in place. But this was Blair Waldorf. She was always the exception to his rule.

On the other hand, he wanted nothing more than to be happy. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and thank Blair for this particular lie, because it could mean the formal start for their life together. Chuck wanted to take her to the doctor – though he knew that nothing could be said only five hours after the act – and ask for a test, and then have her give him that innocent and scared look. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her that he could not have been happier.

Chuck Bass was a divided man as he lay still entwined with Blair.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she sobbed, and he noticed – being shaken out of his thoughtfully split reverie – that her tears were free-flowing now and she had a look of sheer terror on her face.

Suddenly, the phone next to Blair's bed – their bed, he was sure to correct himself; it had been increasingly difficult for him to get used to the fact that it basically belonged to them both since he'd moved in – rang. He glanced over at it before turning back to Blair, who had since turned away from him and was facing the window again, obviously upset with him. He sat up, covers pooling around the bottom half of his body – and took the black phone out of its cradle.

"Hello?" he greeted.

"Who is this?" came some WASP-y woman's snooty voice over the line, abrupt and to the point.

"Chuck Bass. May I ask who's calling?"

"Victoria Polk. I'm Eli's mother. Is this the Waldorf residence? Where's Blair?" she left no room for answer and Chuck found that his mouth only remained open before the woman cleared her throat in impatience.

"I'm sorry, she's..." he glanced over at her shaking body and then stood – gathering his boxers from the floor and slipping into them – to take the call in the living room. "She's a bit indisposed at the moment. Perhaps I can help you?"

"Whatever," the woman replied, boredom in her tone. "I came home this afternoon to find a thick cloud of marijuana smoke in my newly furnished living room, and your son passed out on the couch with Eli. They were caught red handed with those..." she sighed dramatically. "Those....little sticks in their hands." Chuck held back a chortle at her obvious lack of drug terminology and tried to focus on the seriousness of this. Victor was his son, after all.

"Right. I apologize for his inappropriate behavior. But...Pardon me ma'am, but what, exactly, do you propose I _do _at this point?" Chuck had begun pacing a bit in living room as he thought of Blair in the other room. If she had answered the phone instead of him, not only would she have been furious right now, but she would have been thinking of the implications of this situation on the status of herself and her family. Why wasn't he doing that? Being blindsided was no excuse, he should have been profusely apologizing and thinking of ways to make this woman less angry at him.

"Come over and pick him _up_, of course!" she shouted shrilly – so shrilly that Chuck had to hold the phone away from his sensitive ears – more exasperated now than before.

"Of course. I apologize Mrs. Polk. I'll be right over, and again, please accept my and Blair's sincerest -" but all he heard was a dial-tone. _That was a bit bitchy, even for an Upper East Sider_, he thought to himself, mouth set in a firm line. Chuck walked back to the room and found that Blair had fallen asleep once again, her back moving calmly and not in the erratic way it did when she wept.

Once he was dressed, he ambled over to her side of the bed and looked at her serene face, without the wrinkles of consciousness. Chuck leaned down and kissed her nose, making it scrunch slightly, and then pulled away. He went to the desk that decorated the plain middle of their foyer and pulled open a drawer. Taking out a thick piece of cream paper that had a rough texture, he grabbed an uncapped pen from the deep red cup in the corner.

_Went to run an errand. I'll be back soon_

_Love,_

_Chuck_

He put the note on the table right next to her side of the bed and strolled out of the room.

_**********_

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. _What the hell had he gotten himself into? Victor knew better than to get fucked up on drugs. Or, he _should have _known better. And now his mother was coming for him – pissed as hell, he just knew it – and he was in the biggest fucking trouble of his life.

And it was all just to forget about Lilly. How stupid was he? Vic should have _known _better than that. Even if it helped him more than anything else, it could damage any and every part of him. The grimy hands of that joint had probably touched places that he didn't even know about, and he would pay for that in longing for the drug from here on out.

But sure his own lecture for himself was nothing compared to what would come when his mom got to the Polk house. He could only sit at the table with his hands folded in front of him and his knees bouncing nervously. His short hair was disheveled from when he'd fallen asleep on the couch in the family's living room, and his clothes absolutely reeked.

Without warning, the door to the Polk family's kitchen burst open and there stood Chuck – the man who his mother was currently banging as if her life depended on it. He shot Vic a stern look before turning to speak to Mrs. Polk, who had been leaning against the counter ever since she'd gotten off the phone with her husband about an hour ago.

"Let me just say, once again, that I am dreadfully sorry we had to meet under these circumstances," Chuck stated cordially. He strode up to the woman and offered her his hand, which she took politely.

"I recognize you now!" she said, as if an extreme epiphany had struck her. Vic snorted at her surprised look – the look of a bit too much Botox, if you asked him – but covered it quickly with a disturbing cough. "You're the late Bart Bass's son. You run Bass industries, correct?"

"Yes, I do," he replied flatly. Vic could tell that that wasn't exactly what the man had been expecting, and he smirked to himself as they began to have an in-depth conversation about the plunging stocks of Bass and what Chuck planned to do to reverse that. Apparently, _he_ hadn't really planned to do much of anything, since there were people that did that sort of work for him. However, he veiled the severity of those problems quite well, if Vic said so himself (he'd overheard his mother and Chuck talking a few nights ago).

"I'm sorry, Mrs. -"

"Oh, no, please, call me Victoria!" she bubbled, her hand reaching out to tap his.

"Right. Well...Victoria, I should really get Victor home, before Blair worries about us." He shot the woman a tight smile and Vic felt his stomach sink to depths that he didn't even know he had.

"Oh, sure," her voice sounded deflated and Victor wondered for a fleeting second if that phone conversation earlier had included more moaning on her husband's end than anger at their son's transgression.

"It was lovely meeting you," Chuck drawled, a smile gracing his features. As soon as he turned back to Vic, it was clear that he was anything but happy. He glared and pursed his lips before saying – in an overly sweetened voice - "Victor, tell Mrs. Polk that you're sorry." Vick hated – no, he _loathed –_ being patronized and that was precisely what Chuck was doing to him now.

"Sorry," he grunted, not meeting the woman's eyes. She replied with a distracted 'mmm' and they walked out, Victor far ahead of Chuck because of the anger in his step, causing him to pick up speed.

When they got into the back of _Mr. Bass's_ limo, Vic pressed himself as close to his door as possible and ignored Chuck. Finally, when a question popped into his head, he spoke to the bastard.

"Where's my mom?"

"She couldn't come."

"Why the hell are you here?"

"I'm your father, kid," Chuck answered, with a bit more vigor than was absolutely necessary. He scooted a bit closer to Vic and Vic only turned his head back out the window, muttering 'fuck you' under his breath.

"Excuse me?" came Chuck's condescending and far-too-adult voice.

"You're as much my father as the homeless guy that we passed on the way down to the car," Victor whipped out, his head turning towards Chuck once more.

"DNA begs to differ." Their wit was much the same, to Vic's total chagrin. He didn't want to share a goddamn thing with the imbecile who sat a foot and a half to his right. He would have rather been half ape than have to be this man's son. This man, who had not been there. His real father was dead, dammit. He refused to believe – after the few months of glamour that being Chuck Bass's son brought him – that this _asshole _was in any way related to him.

"Well pardon me for believing that sticking around is one of the first things required to actually be a father!" Vic shot back angrily, a few locks of his growing-out-and-in-need-of-cutting hair flying around his face.

"Dammit, Victor. I've been living with your mother for nearly six months. And I am your _fucking _father. You know this because you sent a goddamn PI on my trail!" Vic could tell that Chuck took great lengths to calm himself after his voice rose in frustration. "I'm your dad, and I really hope that you can get used to that."

"So, if you're my dad, I suppose that means I need to be punished, no?" Vic asked arrogantly.

"I'm leaving that up to your mom," Chuck said quietly.

"Aw, come on, old man," he egged Chuck on. "I bet you just can't wait to give her your input while you're rolling around to -"

"That's _enough_." It wasn't that Chuck's voice was upset or even slightly scandalized by the things that had come out of Victor's mouth, but more the fact that his voice was so eerily calm and quiet that caused Vic to finally shut up.

_**********_

Blair waited patiently in the kitchen for her son and Chuck to arrive. She wasn't sure which she wanted home faster – probably Vic so that she could scold him and teach him a lesson about arriving home on time, especially on a school night. But then again, she wanted Chuck home a great deal as well, because really, what errand took so damn long to run? Her anger was torn between both of them, and when the door swung open to reveal Vic, she settled on the part of the fury that belonged to him.

But when the same door opened a second later to show a ragged-looking Chuck, she found that she could only sit and stare.

Victor stormed past her and back to his room – though, really, when didn't he do that nowadays? – and Chuck came to her side immediately, though his eyes looked far too tired to be able to hold any sort of spark for fight tonight. She held in her anger and swallowed it so that it traveled to a place deep inside of her, never to be unearthed again, and reached out for Chuck – who was standing about two feet from her. Her hands folded over his and he reluctantly stepped closer to her, falling down onto another chair and sliding it across the tile flooring of her kitchen.

"What happened?" she asked in a concerned tone, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

"Vic was caught at the...Polk's house with drugs." He didn't look up to meet her eyes, and she took her hand away immediately.

"What?" her voice sounded different somehow, with its raw ire and surprise evident. It was throaty and so...foreign. She cleared her throat and looked at him, but when he wouldn't meet her eyes, she felt her heart begin to fall. Blair grabbed his face, making him look at her, and begged him – with her eyes – to go on and explain.

"He and his friend Eli were in the living room, smoking pot."

"That's impossible. He's never done drugs before!" She said, laughing at Chuck in disbelief and trying to fool herself into thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke.

"Well, there's a first for everything, I suppose," Chuck replied with a pathetic shrug, becoming fascinated with his brown shoes once again.

"Wait. So, my _son –_ our son – was caught smoking _marijuana_!?" Her voice went up at the end to a decibel level that she hadn't known she was capable of until now. Standing up, Blair stomped to the other side of the kitchen, slamming her hand against the wall in powerful irritation.

When Chuck didn't respond to her, but only continued to stare at the floor, she got even more agitated. Blair walked over to him and knelt on the floor, as if she were speaking to a small child who had gotten into the cookie jar again. Not bothering to be gentle this time, she grabbed his hair and yanked her face to his, looking at him seriously.

"Why do _you _seem so utterly scorned by this fact?" she asked, eyes squinting at him in inquiry.

"Because what I did tonight...I sounded like my father. I acted like my father. I've _been _myfather for that kid's entire life," he said quietly, voice cracking on the last word as he turned his gaze out the window. She turned his head to hers once more, bringing their lips together. It scared her when his lips were limp between her own, not returning the kiss until the final second, just when she was about to pull away.

"Chuck," Blair began, her voice thick with the watery tears that were beginning in the back of her throat, "you're not your father. Please believe me." She said the words simply, hoping that the tears in her eyes would be enough to convey to him just how much she loved him, and how long that would carry on.

He nodded. "I know. But...I felt like him. I don't want to be Bart." His voice was so strained and she could tell he was fighting back tears now. "Please don't let me get that bad, Blair. Please."

The note of desperation in his voice caused her to tremble and she stood again, rising to her full height. "You won't, Chuck." Blair's voice was final, indicating that this topic was closed for the evening. Chuck obeyed the unspoken rule and sniffled, looking up at her once again.

"Aren't you going to talk to him?" he questioned curiously, brows furrowed in confusion.

Blair smiled at him. "I think it's best if we just let him sleep. He's probably not in the best state of mind right now to deal with a lecture. We'll get him tomorrow morning." She winked at him and he nodded back knowingly, because they both knew just what the effects of smoking your first joint were. Both had been there, him as first-hand, and her as a by-stander with Nate.

They would talk to Vic in the morning.

_**********_

Adrianna sat on her bed, a Jan Brett book laying open in her lap. She listened to the sniffles in the room next-door – Victor's room – and wondered what was going on. She'd heard the door slam, but assumed that it was the wind catching it as someone entered the house. When Adri had heard her older brother come storming into her room, however, she knew something far more dreadful was going on.

Scared as ever now, she got up and set the book down on her bed, placing the well-worn fabric bookmark that donned her name in the place where she had been. Tiptoeing in her pink flannel nightie and fuzzy magenta slipper, she went to check on her mother and Mr. Bass in the kitchen – where she had heard them briefly speaking before.

When she made it to her secret corner, where she was sure to hear everything but still stay well hidden, she listened intently. Alas, the small girl was tired and found herself drifting and only able to catch bits and pieces. She peeked around the corner and caught sight of Mommy and Mr. Bass kissing and smiled triumphantly. _Maybe Vic just had a bad day at school_, she thought happily – though she still wasn't exactly thrilled that he was unhappy.

But one more look at the people in the kitchen told her that something was still wrong. The look on her mom's face was so sad, it was so unlike anything she had seen, and she felt a tear fall down her face – half in unrecognizable cheerlessness and half in over-exhaustion. She trudged back to her bedroom, crawling under the silky white covers with a sobbed out yawn.

She hoped they would be okay in the morning, because Mr. Bass was so nice, and Mommy was so happy with him – Adrianna could tell.

**End Note: **Um, so much for difficulty getting this out. I think this is one of the longest things I've ever written. Anyway, I had fun writing it (:


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009 (Beginning) August 21, 2009 (most recent update)

**Rating: **T

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

_**Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.**_

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the lateness of this update. Life has just been a bit busy...I'm hoping to have this finished soon, though. I'm thinking that after ten chapters, the sequel will be complete. For those reading "What Were They Thinking" that will be updated either later today or on Sunday, as I'm still busy. Sorry everyone!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or any other product names that are mentioned.

This chapter is not beta'd.

* * *

Vic reluctantly sat up in his bed the next morning. He knew what he would be forced to face. It was Friday, the day before that party Lilly was throwing – and also the day that his mother would chop his balls off for doing what he had done last night. He was dead, for sure. It was just a good thing he hadn't said anything about that party tomorrow night, because maybe now – thinking he hadn't had any plans anyway – his mother wouldn't ground him.

Who was he kidding? Of _course _she would fucking ground him. It was in the mother-of-a-sixteen-year-old-son handbook, which she always referenced (in fact, possibly far too often for his taste). Victor would be in deep shit for just that one little indiscretion last night, and he knew that Blair Waldorf would definitely make him pay for it – in some of the worst ways possible.

But, it was always better to get the inevitable over with. It wasn't as if he could stay in his bedroom all day, hiding like a pussy. Even Vic could face a punishment – especially when something deep within him said that he deserved that and even more.

He just hoped that _bastard _wouldn't be sitting in.

Chuck Bass (yes, he still refused to call him _father_) had been working his last nerve. He hadn't had the motivation to scheme or plot, simply because he didn't feel that the man was worth it. During the first few months, this guy had been great. Letting him stay out as he pleased, giving him all the advice he needed on girls and...other things. For a while, he had even called him that 'f' word, because they seemed so alike. Victor had believed that they were definitely blood relatives.

But now, Chuck was being one of _those _men. He was trying to get on Vic's mother's good side by treating Victor like any other teenage kid. It pissed him off, because really, he deserved better than that. He got into a hell of a lot less trouble than most kids at his school (though that could have been because his dad was Nate Archibald and his mom was Blair Waldorf) and that was something that should have prevented the whole strict "daddy" thing that Chuck was doing.

Before someone came in and collected him – most likely pulling by the ears, and he had rather sensitive ears – Vic stood up and trudged out of his room. Once he got to the doorway that framed the entrance for the living room, he found that it wasn't a normal weekday morning. _Oh, freaking marvelous,_ he thought dryly, steeling himself against the urge to just run back to his room and fake sick.

The TV was not on, there were no voices, and he did not smell one bit of food. This was _not _normal, not by any means. Every morning, Daniella made breakfast – usually eggs and bacon – and they watched Today (or in Vic's case, stared at Meredith Viera's breats and wondered how they hadn't sagged yet). On a normal morning, Adrianna would be grouchy and pick some sort of fight with Vic – and he would fight right back, and then their mother would intervene.

It wasn't normal, by any standard – but how could he have expected it to be? Victor ventured further in, subconsciously using his tiptoes to maneuver quietly. When he got inside the kitchen, he saw that the lights were dimmer than most mornings – it was always dark when the house awoke – and he only saw his mom sitting there. Chuck Bass had not deigned to present them with himself this morning, much to Vic's (pleasant) surprise.

But then again, she seemed...desolate and disappointed. He would have taken a pissed off mother and stone-faced Bass on any day. This was just...a torturous hell. What would she say? What would she do? If it was the silent treatment, then Vic would just as soon chew his own goddamn head off. He just wanted her to glare at him, to be angry, to yell and yell as if their weren't people sleeping (or had Chuck and Adri just left for school and work?) in the house.

He knocked on the door, and when her head stayed droopy and unmoving, he spoke. "Mom?" Vic's voice was cautious, and he prodded her with it, the words reaching out to poke her. Her head rose and she simply stared at him. Her big, brown eyes – much like his own – did not blink (not once) and she looked nonplussed by what had happened. Vic had some serious trouble believing that she was actually unaffected by his first mishap with drugs, and so he raised his eyebrows.

"Mom..." he said again, this time not in a questioning voice. His tone had a little more authority to it now, and he found himself standing taller in front of her. He was a big boy, had been since the day he had gotten out of those Pull-ups (age three and a half, he never forgot). Victor could handle whatever she threw at him; the words she chose to spit at him in disgust – he was prepared for those as well.

"Would you like some breakfast?" she asked quietly, getting up from her seat and picking up the package of French bread that sat in their oak bread box.

"Um. It depends. What's being served? Lecture waffles à la mode?" He looked at her seriously and she – she fucking _laughed. _Okay, what the hell was going on? Was she on something? Maybe that bastard living under their roof had slipped something in her nightcap last night.

"Well...there's toast. I can whip up some eggs if you want. I also had Daniella pick up some of those Lucky Charms that you love!" His mother said, smiling brightly. Oh, that was the game she was playing. Vic caught on quickly, because this had been played before – though before, it had been because of the fact that he broke curfew (he didn't have a curfew anymore, though he was sure that could be changed with one wrong move, like the one last night, and the snap of a finger).

"Mother, I haven't had that cereal since I was six. Seriously, can't you just yell at me and get it over with?" He glanced at his silver Rolex and then looked back to her. "I have to get to school in like, twenty minutes."

_************_

"Oh, sweetie! Don't feel the need to go to school," Blair said. "You might be a little weak for that yet." Blair walked over and patted Vic's shoulder, noticing that he grimaced as she walked back to the counter. She knew what she had wanted to do the moment she got up this morning. If he wanted to act like the spoiled, childish, brat that every guy in her generation had been, then more power to him. She would just enable that further. Anything to make her son happy.

"I'm not a little kid," he mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"_What _was that?" Blair responded, an unnatural laugh falling from her lips as she folded her arms across her chest in disbelief.

His head snapped back up to hers, angrily, and Blair was instantly reminded of Chuck (way back when). It almost gave her whiplash, the way his eyes looked and the manner in which his lips formed an annoyed sneer.

"I _said _I'm not a little kid." His voice was powerful and deep, reminding her that he most definitely was not a small child. Still, she had a point to make, and she intended to stay on the right course to make that point.

"If you're not, Victor, then why do you feel the need to act so _irresponsibly_? If you truly are a man, then you wouldn't be bothered with such feeble things in adolescence, would you?" With each word, each question, Blair stepped closer to her sixteen-year-old son. "You wouldn't feel the _need _to get tweaked – something I know Nate (she no longer used the term father, because the sooner Vic got used to Chuck as his father, the better) talked to you about – and embarrass not only yourself, but your entire family."

He looked up at her and she saw something in his eyes. Victor was owning up to what he had done, like a mature human being. That was the one way that he differed from both his mother and father. She and Nate had raised him to be a great kid – a kid who knew what was right and wrong. That was why she had been so surprised to find this out. Surprised and _furious_.

"I'm sorry mom." Most kids would have mumbled it, looking away – and the parents would have known that something like this would happen again. But in this instance, Victor looked right at Blair, and she knew he was serious when he said it. His voice did not shake, but was steel and truthful. And his eyes bore into her own – reminding her far too much of Chuck, who had only been gone for about half an hour while he dropped off Adri – not moving, and not blinking. She knew he was serious.

_************_

Victor looked his mother in the eyes and tried to convey to her just how sorry he was for what had happened. He hadn't wanted to upset her like this, not at all. But that didn't necessarily mean he was sorry for having gotten high. It was some really great stuff, and he intended to try it again. Mostly, Victor was sorry for having gotten caught and upsetting his mother.

But, in no way did that mean he wouldn't try it again. The way it made him feel was something he didn't intend to let go. It allowed him to forget those nervous waves that always occurred when he thought about Lilly, and he was just able to escape from the world.

He was brought back from his thoughts when his mom walked over to him and embraced him, clutching at his back. She pulled away and smiled at him.

"It's okay," she said softly. Then she looked at Vic – seemingly sizing him up and making sure he was still telling the truth – and ruffled his hair. "Now go get ready for school. Your dad should be back in time to take you." He grimaced – but was turned around, so she couldn't see – and then went to his room to pick out clothes (the little lecture/apology had taken away his personal shower time, irritating him a bit more than usual).

Next time (and there would be a next time), he would just make sure not to get caught.

_***********_

Chuck pushed open the door in the back of his limo and got out, feeling a bit stiff. He hadn't been able to sleep very well last night, and when Blair had awoken him at five this morning, he had been less than pleased. He snapped at her – the cute snapping that only couples like them, who knew each other well, did – and she patted his head affectionately. And then Blair ordered him out of the house, in that fake sweet voice of hers.

And that was how he had ended up where he was now – in front of their apartment building. Chuck jogged lightly up the steps – no need to take the elevator; he needed to wake up anyway – and finally got to their apartment's door, on the third floor. The door was unlocked, so he just turned the knob and entered. Sitting at the counter was Blair, but Vic was nowhere. He glanced at Blair skeptically, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Did you talk to him?" he asked her as he popped a grape – from the bowl on the table – into his mouth. She nodded, stretching her arms out in front of her and letting out a yawn. His eyes were glued to her plump, red lips and he felt his heart beat irregularly. Looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure no one was coming into the room, he walked over to her – suave, even at seven AM – and placed his lips over hers.

She wriggled a little beneath his grasp – trying to get comfortable in his arms, which were tight around her waist – and he loosened his arms. Blair pulled away and smiled at him, blinking her eyes lazily (happily) and furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"What was that for?"

"Do I have to have a reason?" he asked huskily, his lips pecking her chin and neck with kisses. Her fingernails wove through his hair and he let out a sharp breath through his nose, the air causing a few loose waves of her hair to ruffle. Blair giggled quietly as she maneuvered her head so that their lips meant once more. She pulled away again though, letting out a slight whimper of loss.

Chuck shot her a baffled look – as if she was insane – and waved his hand in the air so that she could just tell him whatever it was she needed to tell him and get it over with.

"Can you take Vic to school?" she asked him, running her hands over his hair to smooth it down. He smirked at her, thinking she was joking (because she knew that they hadn't exactly gotten along last night), and when she continued to just look at him with those beautiful doe eyes, his jaw dropped.

"What the fuck am I, Blair? The goddamn bus service?!" Maybe it was the fact that he was currently the apartment's resident insomniac, but Chuck was grouchier than normal this morning (even he could admit it) and he sure let Blair know that. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair – they both knew how much she hated it when he yelled – and he sighed, ruffling his hair and turning around to look at her again.

"Please?" That one word – in the voice that broke his heart with its timid tone and cautious eyes – was enough to convince Chuck that he should take Vic to school. He walked back up to her and kissed her, tongue exploring her warm mouth and causing a smile to form on both of their lips as they found comfort in each other's arms.

"Am I interrupting something?" Came Victor's voice, obviously irritated. Chuck broke away and took in the sight of the boy. His schoolbag was slung over his shoulder and he was dressed in khaki pants and the blue shirt required for the school uniform. Chuck felt a shot of nostalgia and slight fatherly pride as he noticed that Vic accented the shirt with a blue paisley tie. Apparently they had the same taste in clothing, though he was fairly certain that his son would be the last man on earth to admit that.

"No," Chuck said grandly, smiling (grimacing, more like?) at him. "Are you ready for school? I'll be taking you this morning."

"Marvelous." Blair must not have heard the sarcastic rumble – or she chose to ignore it – but Chuck sure as hell heard it. Victor spoke in a normal voice with his next sentence. "I'm actually going to catch a ride with some friends." He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Chuck looked to Blair, and she shot him an apologetic look. He glowered at her – though none of this (the no sleep, and Vic hating him) was her fault and he would apologize later – and said, "See? I told you, he fucking hates me."

He stormed out and went into their bedroom, flopping down on the bed and sitting there, staring at the wall. She threw a "Chuck, wait!" after him, but was wise and did not follow. Chuck fell back against the pillows and closed his eyes, hands behind his head – though he felt no leisure whatsoever.

For some reason, he felt like a failure. He wanted his son to like him, he really, truly did. Chuck didn't want to die someday knowing that his son despised him the way he had his own father. He wanted to be the good guy.

_So maybe you should have stuck around, you selfish prick, _he though angrily, punching the pillow. His eyes remained closed, and that was the last coherent thought he had before he fell into a fairly restless sleep.

**End Note: **I'm slightly concerned with the flow of this chapter, and some parts were very difficult to get out. I'm afriad it sucked (more than usual) and I apologize :P ha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009 (Beginning) August 27, 2009 (most recent update)

**Rating: **T

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

Summary: Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.

**Author's Note: **I am so very sorry for waiting so long to update. I've been incredibly busy, and this is short because of that busyness, haha. I plan to get working on the season 2 chapters for my other in-progress story, "What Were They Thinking" as well. I just figured I would let everyone know in advance that updates and writing in general for me will be slower.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or any other product names that are mentioned.

Thank you to my beta, Amber, for looking over this chapter!

* * *

Blair cautiously walked into her and Chuck's bedroom, prepared for anything he threw her way. When she saw that his eyes were closed and his chest was moving in a slow, steady pattern, she paused in the doorway. A smile spread on her face when she heard her name fall from his lips. Blair leaned against the door-frame and simply stared at him. She could do it for days on end without moving. Chuck was at his most peaceful state while asleep, and sometimes she just wished she could bottle it up.

She dragged her feet as she walked over to their queen-sized bed (Chuck had begged for a smaller bed, just because he was "Chuck Bass" and wanted to be closer to Blair), her feet rubbing against the plush carpeting. Once she was on her side of the bed, Blair sat down and smoothed the sheets, which had wrinkled under the weight of Chuck's body. He didn't move at all, and she let out a contented sigh as she lay down – using her arm as a pillow.

"You can stop staring, Blair." She jumped, even though his voice was gentle and sweet – the tone he reserved for the moments before an apology. Looking up at him, she stroked his cheek, where there was a bit of stubble from his inability to shave earlier that morning. Blair smiled at him, her eyes going a bit foggy as she yawned.

Chuck's lips found hers and moved against them gently. Once they had separated, he began to twirl the ends of her hair on the tips of his fingers. Blair leaned into his touch and suddenly the warmth of his hand was gone.

She looked up at him, confused, and in return, he looked at her seriously. "I'm sorry." His voice was low and reverent, and his eyes were a melted caramel.

"It's okay," Blair replied quietly, leaning forward and pecking his lips once more. Something came to her mind, and she ducked her head down a bit, forcing herself to not look at his lips (she wouldn't be able to resist them if she looked at his face any longer). "What was all the stuff that you were saying earlier? About...Vic? What happened, Chuck?"

She didn't need to look up to know that he was avoiding her words and gaze. He shifted, albeit subtly (though she noticed any change in his demeanor, no matter how big or small), and Blair shook her head. Finally, he answered her.

"Nothing."

They both knew that the likelihood of that answer satisfying her was about as high as the odds that the Beatles would have a reunion tour the following summer. Blair cursed under her breath and slid away from him, turning over to face the window.

She was unbelievably tired of having to be cautious around Chuck. Every slightly negative move she made seemed as if it could cause another blow up. Like he was a ticking time bomb and soon, she would set off the explosion; the only thing left would be an outline of the man once known as Chuck and maybe even a note if he was feeling nice.

Now, though, she really didn't _care_. If he did love her – like he'd said, so many times – then he would be there for her, even when they fought. That was why she decided to finally speak up.

"No, Chuck, it was something. I'm so sick of walking on eggshells around you! If you want this..." she hated to use this word, but felt it was necessary, "relationship to work out like I do, then we have to be open and _honest_." She added a desperate "please", and heard his defeated sigh from the other side of the bed.

"Blair, look, he just...Vic needs...Fuck, I don't know what the hell he needs since I've only been his dad for less than six goddamn months. It's my fault. I should take care of it." His body was up against her's now and she felt his arm burn into her side.

"He should be civil to you. We (dammit, she hadn't meant to bring Nate into this) – I didn't raise him to act like...shit. So, just...tell me what he did. Please," her begging was in full form that evening.

Chuck grunted, trying to formulate a proper response to what she was asking him. "Victor...he said some things...well, they didn't exactly heal me from decades past. Whatever, though, he's a kid. I was exactly like him...I still am." He had a misty look in his eyes, slightly nostalgic.

"What did he say?" her voice was like butterfly wings – fluttery and soft, concerned and caring.

"That I should have been around. And I should have. He made good points...He just crossed a line."

"What line?" She pressed.

"Just involving us and our dirty little escapades," he smirked at her boyishly (they had since turned to face one another) and their lips entangled for the millionth time that day. His voice was lighter now – more playful – and Blair felt infinitely better.

His right hand massaged her ribs and she giggled as his fingertips inched towards the ticklish spot just beneath her breasts. Blair wove her fingers into his hair and bit his lip, pulling away to look into his eyes – which were foggy and dark with lust. She smirked at him and ducked her head into his chest.

"Well, since he's not here, we don't have to worry about him coming in and adding this to the list of times he's walked in on us, do we?" she smiled at Chuck and he groaned, leaning forward and capturing her lips between his own.

_***********_

Victor found that walking to school was oddly mind-clearing. The cool dampness of the morning air penetrated his skin through his jacket and he took a deep breath. His iPod earphones were stuck into his ears, and he was walking to the beat of Flo-Rida's 'Right Round', his sleek black shoes making a slight clacking sound on the sidewalk.

"Hey, man!" Eli's hand slapped his back by way of greeting, and he almost jumped. Using his thumb to turn the volume of his music down, Vic looked back at his friend and shot him a withering glare. Eli only grinned in response, and Victor felt a strange pang of resentment for the fact that he was in a complete daze from the lasting effects of drugs, but his friend was not.

"Seriously, dude, how are you not totally out of it?" Vic asked Eli.

"It's not like I haven't done it before. You get used to it," he replied with a shrug. Victor rolled his eyes, trying to walk a few steps ahead of his friend.

When they finally reached the iron gates of the school, Victor dragged his Biology book out of his bag, putting it under his arm instead. He strolled over to his locker to drop off his bookbag and coat. As he slammed the locker door closed, he saw Lilly standing in place of the swinging door.

"So is this whole talking by the lockers thing becoming regular? Should I come earlier and set aside some time on my oh-so-full calendar?" He asked sardonically.

"No, it's just...convenient." She shrugged, looking down at the floor. They were quiet for a few moments, and Vic had an eerie feeling. There were very few people in the hallway – most had gotten to class, which started in three minutes – and it was like they were the only ones there. As if a camera was zeroing in on the scene, capturing every line of the concentrated frowns on their faces.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at your toes, or do you plan on forming actual sentences?"

"You're pissy."

"No. I am _pithy_. There's a difference, blondie."

"Fine, be an asshole!" she yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "You're still coming to my fucking party, aren't you?" Lilly folded her arms over her chest, and he thought of something he had once read in a magazine about how that put up a barrier. Well good. He wanted her to be afraid of him, to feel the need to subconsciously protect herself from him.

"I don't know anymore," he said quietly, staring out the window and into the distance.

"Whatever. I'll see you later. Or not. I don't give a shit anymore."

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath, watching her body get farther and farther down the hallway. Fuck school. Today, he would stay out and see the world. He opened his locker again and pulled out his bookbag. He took out the bag of weed he still had leftover from his afternoon with Eli yesterday. Sticking it in his pocket, he fingered the plastic before walking out of the school.

First up was the pizza parlor on eighth. He was craving a piece of that delicious deep dish sausage pizza, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to eat it. (I'm really not sure if this ending for Vic's POV made sense at all :P)

**End Note: **I'm sorry...I just wanted this done...I am unbelievably tired...yadda yadda yadda. I'll get some caffeine tomorrow and write an extra long chapter, three people that read this ;P. Oh yeah, Chuck's POV will be extra long to make up for this as well....Again, just...wanted it donnnneee :P


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **I Bid You A Sweet Adieu

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **August 6, 2009 (Beginning) November 3, 2009 (most recent update)

**Rating: **T

**Classification: **There really isn't much of one; a mixture of everything.

_**Summary:**_ Sequel to Bittersweet Welcome! Six months later, Chuck and Blair are finding that some things will stand in their way of being happy and staying together successfully. As with any stab at their relationship, there are many hurdles to leap over.

**Author's Note: **I am baaack! I don't know how many people are majorly mad at me for not having written anything long in so long, so I'm also not sure if I'll get any reviews. I plan on working hard to keep up with this now, and if there's anyone out there reading my collection of drabbles, know that that'll be taking a back-seat for a bit. Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or any other product names that are mentioned.

A special thanks goes to my beta, Amber (:

As Vic made his way into Pasquale's (that marvelous pizza parlor on Eighth street), he hugged his wool coat closer to himself. The floppy ears of his hat blew in the wind that greeted him as he entered the restaurant.

Once he was seated, he ordered a large sausage pizza and a glass of soda (the lunch of a _true _man). He watched the waitress's behind slide from side to side as she walked away from the table (it was an honored tradition for Victor every time he came in).

He began to fiddle with his napkin and silverware, and suddenly an old, dusty memory hit him like a ton of bricks. He remembered the first time he had been here, when he was introduced to Pasquale's.

"_C'mon, kid; it's pizza. Who doesn't love some greasy, cheesy, fattening slice of heaven after a cruddy day at school, huh?" Nate rubbed his head affectionately with his fist and Vic pursed his lips, fighting back the beginnings of a smile only his father could bring out._

"_This place smells disgusting."_

"_Yes, but as soon as you take your first bite, that opinion will change, believe me bud." Nate hugged Victor close to his side, and Vic felt a warm sense of something happy wash over him. _

_It was only second grade, and he had already been rejected multiple times. All he wanted was to know what it was like to kiss a girl – a beautiful girl who mystified him with every step she took and every word that left her lips. That girl was Lilly, and all he had wanted was one kiss, one little touch of their lips._

_And she had rejected him. It was cold and calculated, even for a measly second-grader. It hurt Vic and he wasn't really sure that he would ever recover from it._

_And then, ten minutes later (after a rush order was requested by his dad), when that delicious hot mess of a piece of pizza hit his tongue, it all _was_ better. He felt the cheese slide down his throat and warm his insides, and as Vic washed it down with some root beer, he became complacent. There would be other girls; it wasn't like Lilly was the only pretty female in his class, or at his school._

"_Feelin' better already, kiddo?" Nate asked him, smiling broadly. Victor grinned back as he crumpled his napkin under the table and got it ready to fire at his dad. He was completely blind-sided though, when something hit him in the nose first. It was a balled-up piece of straw-wrapping, and he gasped in shock that his father had beat him to it._

"_Hey!" Vic took the crumpled piece of napkin and chucked it at his dad's face, laughing when Nate sputtered from getting little pieces of unraveled paper in his eyes and up his nose._

That was how the battle of father and son (an ongoing battle of fun and thrills) had begun. It had been a tradition for him and his _dad_ (Chuck Bass was not his father; he was sure of it; it was all a damn lie) to come here after an unpleasant school (or work) day, and just forget about the world. They had their little paper fights, and as the years went by and both got older, there was more talking than throwing of paper.

Victor smiled at how much fun he had had with Nate – er, his _dad_. He needed to be sure to emphasize that word whenever it crossed his mind. Chuck was not family; they did not share blood. He didn't want to share _anything _with that sex-crazed man-whore.

He was brought out of his slightly (okay, maybe more than slightly) anger-induced reverie when the waitress set his pizza down on the table along with his large root beer. He politely (sleazily?) asked her for her phone number, which she proceeded to write down on his napkin, and scarfed down three pieces of pizza before leaving quickly.

Vic left the napkin on the table. He wouldn't bother calling her; it was probably a fake number anyway.

_**********_

Chuck woke up later than normal from his and Blair's....friendly activities earlier that morning. He glanced at the clock, then at the side of the bed usually reserved for Blair, and gaped. She'd "let him sleep in" (also known as pissing him off because now he was surely missing something important at work), and now he was fuming.

He was sure that it wasn't her intention to make him fume; she probably figured (being a kind, loving woman and all) that he could use a nice break from everything.

Chuck Bass just didn't _do _breaks. He couldn't handle them. During every second of one of his 'breaks' there would be something on his mind, something taking him away from what he should have been focusing on – relaxing.

He threw the mess of covers that had been tangled up around him back and (tried not to) stomp into the kitchen. Chuck covered up his scowling face with an attempt at a smile, but that attempt turned genuine when he saw how very beautiful Blair was.

The sun was peeking through the window and could have been blinding if not for their chocolate brown curtains. But at that moment, Chuck couldn't think of a more beautiful thing than her face framed by the golden rays that came through the windows in their kitchen. Her hair was straight and in loose tendrils that framed her face angelically. There was no makeup on her face, and he wouldn't ever have it any other way.

She was beautiful, and she was his.

"Morning," Blair said, her voice soft.

Chuck walked over to her instantly and wrapped her warm, frail body in his strong one (he always loved playing the big protector, and she never seemed to mind). Breathing in the scent of her hair and the supple skin of her neck, he pressed kisses in the space where her collarbone turned into her soft shoulder.

"Good morning," he murmured onto her skin, tongue darting out to taste what smelled so delicious.

She giggled quietly and held onto the ends of his hair as his face buried deeper within her neck.

"Chuck," she admonished, tugging him away. "I think we should pace ourselves a little bit more than we have."

"But where's the fun in that?" He smirked at her (the smirk he _knew_ got her La Perlas all twisted and in a bunch), and pecked her lips. "We're young; seize the day, Blair."

"The last time we 'seized the day'" - she quoted with the index and middle fingers on both hands - "our son caught us. I think we should...be a little more cautious." She ran her delicate hands down his bare chest and he wished with all of his heart that he didn't feel the tingles and twinges that he did.

Letting out a sigh full of remorse and sadness, Chuck resigned from the argument, softly melding their lips together one last time before standing up and looking down at her appraisingly. She smiled up at him (somewhat apologetically).

"I suppose you're right. There's probably time for all of this..." his hands trailed down her sides and he didn't have to look at her to know that her eyes were closed in desire. "Later." As a parting gift, he gave her a little tap on her upper thigh. Blair squealed and managed to whack him on the arm before he left the room.

_**********_

She followed him out, trailing behind at a safe distance. He didn't really realize she was there until they'd reached the bedroom, and he began to unbutton his shirt and take it off. Chuck turned around and stared at her for a moment before grabbing the towel he'd lain out on the bed and striding into the bathroom.

_Wow_.

If there was an award for quickest mood swing, Chuck surely beat out everyone Blair knew – including every one of her pregnant friends (and she had quite a few). She pushed the bathroom door open and leaned against the frame while he continued to ignore her.

"Do I need to be admitted to the hospital for hallucinations and possible insanity, or am I correct in thinking that that little bit in the kitchen really _did _just happen?"

No answer.

"Because there were agreeing murmurs on _both_ sides, Chuck – however reluctant one of those sides might have been."

And then Chuck – silent-treatment king – graced Blair with his words (though as soon as they were out of his mouth, she wished he had just kept ignoring her). "If you think _that's_ what I am mad about Blair, then maybe we don't really know each other as much as we'd hoped. Or rather, maybe _you_ don't know _me _anymore."

"Chuck -"

"No. Listen for once, Blair!" She stared at the floor, gulping. This had come out of nowhere, right? There wasn't a sign she'd missed? What in the hell _happened_ from the kitchen to their bathroom? She had so many questions for him, just like every other time when he was angry with her.

"Who pays the bills? Who provides for a family that isn't even officially his _own _yet? That's right, _me_. Not only do I have to provide for _you people_, but I don't even have control over my own goddamn life anymore! You _called _my workplace and told them I wouldn't be coming in today, did you not?" He'd gotten closer to her, taking advances with each emphasized word he voiced (and there was a lot of emphasizing).

Her voice was weak and meager, coming from a place deep within her that was tired and scared of losing him. "I told them I thought you could use a -"

"No, _Blair_, you told them that I would not be coming in." Blair shuddered hearing her name being uttered from his lips in such a disgusted and fed up manner. She had heard him upset before, but now he just seemed so much more angered than ever before.

"How do you think that looks to them? That I have my girlfriend take care of all the dirty work? You're not even my _wife_ and already you're playing the role."

She was instantly brought back to that moment, years ago, when she'd thrown him that brunch with the executives at Bass Industries, and he had said words so close to those, they may as well have been the same. Blair felt a tear mark its trail down her cheek and wiped it away with the side of her hand, hoping he hadn't seen. Crying was for the weak.

"I just thought that..." she couldn't find the words, but Chuck found them for her.

"That's exactly _it_. You did _not _think, Blair. Until there are rings on our fingers, you're not allowed to do things like this. I feel like I'm imprisoned in a place that doesn't belong to me, and I'm being controlled by a careless and selfish person. Tell me, did you even think about asking whether or not I could handle missing a day?"

"No." Blair looked at the floor again, her lips pouting, endless tears spilling from her eyes. She had screwed up, and she felt like she couldn't fix it this time. Usually she could, but now it felt like the mother of all screw-ups.

And then something occurred to her – the gears clicked in her mind, and she felt a plan forming, despite her current state of catatonia.

"Then why don't we just get married?" She looked up into his eyes, hopeful. She grasped onto his hands, and he allowed her to hold them, but made no move to hold hers.

"The fact that you think that will fix everything is the reason we can't get married, Blair. We can't get married until there's balance in this relationship. And if we never achieve balance...well then, I guess we're right back where we started fifteen years ago then, aren't we?" He wasn't looking at her anymore, but instead was gazing out the window in their bedroom. She could hear the rain pouring, and cracks of thunder rattled the house.

His hands fell from hers and he began to walk out, veto-ing the idea for a shower. She caught his arm before he left. Too weak to meet his dark eyes again, she stared at the floor as she made one last plead.

"Where did this come from, Chuck?" Blair sobbed and gasped as more tears filled her eyes and spilled out.

"It's six months of bottled-up turmoil." His voice was sad now, and he sounded exhausted. "I never wanted this to happen, Blair. I tried to fix it – carefully, and without affecting much. But every time I tried, you just screwed it up again. We need some time apart, otherwise we'll suffocate." Chuck kissed the top of her head, and she continued to cry.

Neither of them wanted this, but both of them knew it might be for the best in the long run.

**End Note: **Baah, was this okay? I just don't know if it came out of nowhere or something. I liked the fight (don't worry, they will most definitely make up very very soon (:), but it almost felt...rushed? Reviews would be greatly appreciated (:


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